


All in to Win

by Geelady



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some displaced minions of Michael’s horde find a new focus for their so-called lives, a game where the stakes are the victim’s life and the first “horse” of the day? – Rodney McKay! (An idea that came to me after watching The Hunger Games).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All in to Win  
By GE Waldo/GeeLady  
Pairings: None. Friendships only, featuring Rodney, Teyla, Ronan and Sheppard, Weir, Beckett.  
Ratings: Mature, some violence, language, and serious Rodney whump!  
Summary: Some displaced minions of Michael’s horde find a new focus for their so-called lives, a game where the stakes are the victim’s life and the first “horse” of the day? – Rodney McKay! (An idea that came to me after watching The Hunger Games).

*Just had to get the first chapter of this one out, even though Completeness is not yet finished. Watch for the next chapters of both stories in the next week!  
XXXXXXX

“Do I have to go on this one?” Rodney knew he sounded like a petulant child. “I have three different experiments running and we just got back from Gorph” – who names these planets anyway?? – “and their festival of ZedPM-powered Kick our Lantean Asses.” A mission that had landed them exactly el’ zippo’ in the food products or ally department. “This whole mission was a waste of time and they didn’t want to give up their spare ZedPM – imagine that?”

Plus he hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast and it was well past five in the afternoon. At least on Atlantis it was. He and everyone knew the way worm-holes worked was you might leave Atlantis at noon and step into pitch-black Two AM can’t-see-worth-shit on the other side. Every planet had its own hours of days, days of the week and months of the year. Sometimes his mind fooled him and he came home with the universe’s worse jet-lag. Sheppard breezed through these bizarre time shifts like a good soldier with great hair while he dragged his ass to Carson for several pills designed to help get his body back to something vaguely resembling his normal pattern of sleeping, eating and making pee-pee.

“Sorry Rodney, but John is meeting with Caldwell to discuss our next engagement with the Wraith which looks like it might be right around the corner, so I’m afraid you got the short end of the stick this time.” She gestured to his companions “But Ronan and Teyla are going with you. Just try and secure us some food - okay? Coffee would be good – and be nice. They sent through a friendly automated message and the MALP confirmed that they seem to be who they say they are.” she addressed Ronan and Teyla specifically “but keep your weapons handy just in case.” 

Ronan’s lethal weapon was slung below his waist. “Always.” 

Teyla nodded “We will be careful Elizabeth.”

She nodded. “Thanks Teyla, and bring back our resident though whiny genius in one piece.”

Rodney just threw her a pained look. “Ha-ha, very funny. I hope they have dinner-time on this planet.”

Weir smiled and stayed to watch them disappear through the Gate, a habit she had started years ago and never gave up. She always liked to be there when they returned as well. It was a comforting thing for her, not merely a sign of leadership. She always felt a low riding tension when her people were away and that tension didn’t leave until they returned.

Weir was about to turn away when the Gate flashed and crackled – which it had never done before and to her and everyone’s shock, several objects were hurled back through the illusory “puddle” to land clattering to the floor.

Elizabeth looked down to the one that had slid across the hard surface, coming to rest at her feet. It was Teyla’s P-90. Elizabeth felt the first cold dread when she saw not only Rodney’s weapon as well but Ronan’s Satedan blaster. The Gate’s flowing surface that resembled water then winked out.

All of her people’s weapons were present and accounted for.

But her people were not. Ronan, Teyla and Rodney had disappeared and were now weaponless on a strange planet. Because he was close enough to hear her Elizabeth barked to her assistant in the control room above her. “Chuck – dial it again!” and then tapped her ear-piece. “Daedulus? Colonel Caldwell?”

“Yes?” Clipped. Irritated.

“I need Colonel Sheppard back here at once, we have a serious problem.” 

XXX

A dozen attempts to dial the Gate to reach the address where Sheppard’s team had disappeared had proved fruitless. “There’s just no getting through, Doctor Weir.” Zelenka reported after tinkering with the Gate for over an hour. “After they went through someone on the other aside must have disabled the dialer – probably by removing a crucial crystal controller. Unless they dial us, we’ll never get a connection.”

Weir nodded. “Keep trying anyway Radek, please.”

Radek nodded and crawled back beneath Atlantis’s dialer control consol. Crystal chips were spread around his feet. Elizabeth carefully stepped around them to stand next to John Sheppard. 

“How long have they been gone?” Sheppard asked. His entire team, minus himself, was missing with no weapons of any kind. As situations went, it sucked pretty big time.

“Almost an hour.”

Sheppard nodded. “Do we have the address of the planet? It’s location?”

Weir nodded. “It’s three hyper-space weeks away.”

Sheppard said “Then I think we should pack and be on our way.”

Elizabeth agreed but said to Zelenka “Radek, keep working on it anyway. We’ll leave a team behind prepared to-”

At that moment they all hard it, a soft intermittent whine that increased in volume, and then became a steady noise, as though suddenly they were standing beneath massive power-lines buzzing with electricity. Chuck offered an explanation. “Doctor Weir, I’m getting an audio/video feed from the address.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Radek can we dial the Gate now?”

Radek checked. “No, it’s just what he said, an audio/video feed from their side. So they didn’t entirely disable their Gate, just removed the crystals that control passage through. That’s a neat trick.”

“Any viruses in the message or a piggy-backed code?”

Sheppard nodded his approval of her precautions. They’d gone down that path before and Elizabeth wasn’t about to take any chances.

Chuck answered “Nothing that I can detect, it’s just what it seems to be.”

Elizabeth licked her lips nervously. “Okay...let’s see it.” 

Chuck did his magic and on the large screen to their right a picture came into focus. It was a scene of an open field with a tree line in the background. People were milling around, other people appeared to be eating and drinking. A large cage-like enclosure sat to one side not quite in full view.

Suddenly a loud voice-over barked at them. “Welcome to The Game good viewers! This is where it all happens. This is where you bet their lives and if you go all in, you win-win-win!”

Suddenly the picture offered them a close-up of the cage-like structure. Inside people moved about, dragging their feet morosely or were slumped on the ground, their backs up against the metal bars. Elizabeth saw three figures that appeared familiar. “Oh my god...”

They were seated together at the rear of the enclosure, looking to all intents and purposes like animals in a cage, just like the rest of the humans. The video zoomed in even more, the camera on the other side going from face to despairing face, until it reached Teyla. The voice-over spoke again “Who will it be today? Does this lovely woman have the skills to beat the hunters at their own game? The camera passed to Ronan’s scowl. “Or will it be this strapping fellow who makes you rich”? And then to Rodney. “How about this one? He’s kind of small, but maybe there’s a beast inside that can stand up to the gruelling contest ahead?”

Elizabeth watched her people with worried eyes. Ronan had a cut on his forehead, he had obviously fought back. Teyla was surveying her surroundings, perhaps calculating what their next move might be and Rodney...Rodney was sweating. “What the hell is this?” Sheppard asked although he could already guess.

Elizabeth, and now Carson and a few others besides Sheppard, had gathered around the screen to watch in morbid fascination as the live horror showed began to play out. The voice-over announced: “Our audience wants to have a look at today’s new faces, so let’s bring them out shall we?”

The camera finally gave them their first view of the perpetrators of the so-called game show and Elizabeth sucked in a breath. “My god, those are...”

“Hybrids.” Sheppard finished for her. “Some of Michael’s pets.” 

The two human/Wraith hybrids holding what appeared to be Wraith-like blasters, their faces pale and criss-crossed with blue veins, marched Teyla, Ronan and Rodney out from the cage to stand side by side in a line under the hot sun while the camera closed in on their faces. Ronan glared lethal daggers at the hybrids and the camera while Teyla’s face was hard with defiance. Rodney looked...scared.

“Who will it be?” Voice-over asked loudly, “the tall fierce warrior, the strong but alluring temptress, or the pale weakling? First bets are now open starting at one hundred points – and remember, the longer the odds, the bigger your winnings.”

There were a few minutes of unintelligible shouting as hundreds of voices clamored while placing their bets somewhere off-screen. After it had died down somewhat, the Voice came back. While the camera swung from Ronan to Teyla to Rodney and back again, the Voice shouted, pumping the crowd to cheers and thrills. “The audience has chosen! One man against one man and against the elements. A hunter and his prey, may one survive to run another day! One man to place or one man to win - remember it’s a sport and not a sin to go all in to win! You our faithful viewer may begin placing your wagers now.”

Sheppard didn’t mean to but he began to chant softly under his breath “Ronan or Teyla, Ronan or Teyla...” saying to Weir when he saw her turn to him questioningly. “If this is some kind of race to the death,” He explained, “either of those two has the greatest chance of making it out alive. Rodney on the other hand...”

Elizabeth suddenly understood him. “Radek, we need that Gate up now. We need to be able to dial that planet.” Weir also understood that a three week trip through space would be far, far too late to help any of them. 

Radek looked nervously at them both. “Um, we can’t Elizabeth. It’s simply impossible. Their Gate is disabled from their side and for us to get through they have to fix it first. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s just...physics - no crystals, no Gate, no Gate, no dialing said Gate and no getting through – it’s impossible.”

On the screen a cheer rose up from the crowd as the camera closed in on Rodney’s sun-burned face...“And it’s the weakling you have chosen!” An even closer up shot of Rodney’s face showed his fear as he heard the announcement, correctly guessing that it was him the annoying Voice was talking about.

Sheppard could see Rodney’s face twist as he realised he had been chosen for...whatever was about to happen. Rodney mouthed “Oh great.” to Ronan standing next to him, and Sheppard didn’t want to hear about what was not possible. “Zelenka, if we can’t find a way to dial that planet, Rodney is as good as dead.”

XXX

The Voice, which Teyla could see, was a hybrid speaking into a mic’ and waving to the crowds at what appeared to be the commencement of this, their game of gambling on life, pointed to Rodney and said: “One man, this little man, will have to avoid a succession of hunters while navigating four days worth of harsh forest and ground, lakes and rivers, to reach the half-way point – to Place – or, if he can make it that far, to the Finish and to Win. If he makes it all the way through these next gruelling days and nights to the Finish, he will win his life and you who were so bold to wager that he would, you who went all in - will win!” 

The crowd erupted in cheers that went on for several minutes until the hybrid held up one thick finger “But...but if he only makes it to the half-way mark, if he only Places then those who bet wisely on such will makes themselves wealthier and our little, white Gamer...” The hybrid pointed to Rodney, whose pockets had been emptied and he then stripped down to his pants and military t-shirt. They had even taken his shoes and socks, “goes back to the cages to run another day! However if our pale Gamer does not last until even the half-way mark, then he will face the ultimate penalty!” He swung his arm around to the spectacle appearing to his left.

The crowd roared its approval as a Wraith queen was rolled out before them, her arms and legs strapped to a wooden construct on wheels, thick straps keeping all four of her limbs immobile. She hissed her hatred of the crowd, but gazed with longing at Rodney the human, her favorite food.

“If our little Gamer cannot succeed, then our Gaming Queen will feed and feed!” The announcer shouted, making the crowd go wild.

The crowd kept up its cries of “Start the game, start the game...” as Ronan fought the hybrids rough paws all the way back into the cage. Teyla was thrown in beside him, landing hard on the dirt. “Take me - I’m the one you want!” Ronan continued to shout to the guards as they hauled Rodney away to stand him teasingly before the Wraith Queen who vainly fought her bonds to get at his heaving chest.

At Ronan’s shouts to be picked instead of Rodney, one of the hybrids grew tired of his protests and turned his weapon on Ronan although he did not fire, and Teyla grabbed desperately at his arm “Ronan, stop. I promise you we will figure something out but we cannot help Rodney if we are dead.”

Ronan finally allowed her to pull him to a seated position beside her in the dirt. “Rodney isn’t like us, Teyla, he’s not a soldier. He’s not a fighter.” 

Teyla also watched Rodney anxiously. The hybrids were roughly shoving their team-mate back and forth in a closed circle - a sort of battle-at-play although Teyla could see it was not serious but designed to incite the crowd to further excitement and wagers. “Rodney may not be a trained soldier but you are wrong if you think he is not a fighter. Rodney is very intelligent and if he cannot out-fight them or out-run them, then he will out-think them.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

Teyla set her jaw so hard it hurt. “They will come for us soon enough. Sheppard will not hesitate to kill everyone here to save us.” To Teyla, at that moment the idea did not bother her conscience all that much. “Do you still have your knife?”

Ronan nodded, feeling the blade sitting next to skin beneath his pant leg. He had swiftly slipped it into its secret sheath when it became obvious they were out-numbered and out-gunned – if they had even had their guns anymore.

“Keep it well hidden Ronan, and let us think how we might escape from this cage.”

XXX

On the screen Rodney was hauled up to stand next to a thickly muscled gorilla of a man who was wearing nothing but pants made of animals skins tied at the waist with a thin leather lace. His torso was painted with colored symbols that Elizabeth did not recognise. His legs and feet were bare as well. He did not even glance at Rodney. It was all part of the Game.

The voice-over, which Elizabeth now saw was coming from one of the hybrids standing at a small podium and speaking into a mic’ said “Two men, side by side, equal in clothing, equal in the will to win! As always there are hidden cashes of food and water for them to find – if they are clever enough - and each will be allowed five hours rest per night. So what head-start shall we grant this day to our smaller-than-usual Gamer? One, two, three hours? As always, you our audience shall decide.” 

As the announcer spoke of hours and the crowd cheered for their choices, Zelenka approached. “Doctor Weir, I think I’ve discovered why their weapons were sent back. From their end the Gate was modified with some sort of filtering system designed to detect and reject all objects in conjunction with either explosive chemicals or energy signatures, like the bullets in the P-90’s or the energy from Ronan’s hand weapon. But Ronan’s knife wasn’t sent back so we can assume he still has it.”

Elizabeth was glad for the small bit of good news but it wasn’t enough to wipe the fear from her heart. “One knife against all of them?” She whispered so softly only John could hear, “No contest.”

Sheppard remarked “You haven’t seen Ronan in a fight.” Still, Ronan and Teyla were vastly out-number, and locked in a cage and he did not see that changing any time soon. He tried to recall the last time Rodney had been in any kind of hand-to-hand fight, or on the run for his life. He couldn’t remember even one. Rodney was the guy who on orders fired his gun, and then followed Sheppard’s lead to run here or there, or do his best whenever Sheppard barked at him to recalibrate the thing-a-ma-jig, jiggle-tap the whoozitz or repair the sticky doohicky. At no time could he ever remember ordering “Rodney –beat that guy up” or “Rodney – run for miles without rest.”

Not that Rodney wasn’t capable of hard work, he was. While they weren’t on a mission, Rodney did nothing but work either in his lab or by visiting every remote Atlantis control junction to check up on them like they were his personal pets. He also spent numerous weekly hours effecting repairs to everything one could imagine that might need repairing, all to keep the city running safely for everyone. Rodney, for all his complaining of lack of sleep or decent meal-times, worked harder than anyone he knew and more than that – he loved every minute of it.

But this was not Atlantis and Rodney was a scientist not a marathon runner or a backwoodsman who understood the nuances of fighting for his life against great odds. But, more than that, Sheppard didn’t think Rodney had ever even spent time camping out, not even as a child, and that was downright bizarre for a Canadian when most of them lived with the wilderness practically lapping at their back door. “Rodney’s smart.” Sheppard said. “If he can just get far enough ahead, he’ll have the time to out-think them.” He assured Elizabeth, “He’ll get through this.”

Sheppard hugged himself with one arm while the other he used to pick at his five o’clock shadow. He should have been there with his team, not on the damn Daedulus engaged in an essentially useless con-fab with Caldwell. “Zelenka, any luck?” He knew he shouldn’t ask again after only five minutes. The man was good but he wasn’t a miracle worker.

He wasn’t Rodney.

“I’m sorry Colonel. I’m waiting to have a consultation with Colonel Carter.”

Meaning he was out of ideas and he hoped Carter might have a few tucked up her sleeve. Well, that was good, Sheppard thought, Carter was smart. So smart that even Rodney respected her brains. But it was hard to be doing nothing, to be prevented from joining his colleagues who were under attack. Standing still and being forced to only watch was sending Sheppard’s blood pressure through the roof. 

His friends in Atlantis watched events begin to unfold as Rodney was taken to the edge of the tree line and pushed hard until he fell to his knees. There, the announcer continued playing to the crowd. “According to your wishes the Gamer has been granted two hours head-start!”

Ugly hybrid hands dragged him to his feet and he was shoved ahead. Rodney decided it was best not to glance back to the monster of a man with the pretty tattoos. He figured he would need every extra second head start that he had to make it through this first day. 

“BEGIN THE HUNT!” the announcer shouted and the crowd went wild as Rodney sprinted into the trees, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the gorilla disguised as a human being.

XXX  
Elizabeth could not tear her eyes away from the screen where Rodney ran through the woods, stumbling every now and again over roots or depressions in the uneven ground. There were hidden cameras everywhere, each with the ability to zoom in and follow Rodney’s zig-zag-ing path and the straighter path of the hunter now less than an hour behind him and gaining. Sheppard knew what Weir was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. If Rodney slowed down he might avoid twisting his ankle, but if he did slow down, he would be caught that much sooner.

And Rodney, for all his effort thus far, was going to be caught if he could not think his way out of this. Or if Ronan and Teyla could not. Already Sheppard could see that Rodney’s strength was waning, his chest heaving, the sweat pouring off him. He had run miles already, beyond his normal endurance, and he was on the edge of needing to stop to get his wind back. All the while, the hunter jogged through the forest with his longer, more powerful legs and the ease of the practised athlete, gaining ground. 

Sheppard turned from the screen and paced behind the curious Atlantis crowd who had gathered to watch the awful spectacle of one of their own being tracked and pursued like an animal. Sheppard needed to do something, not just watch. “Son-of-a-bitch...” He said under his breath and then ground out between aching teeth to Zelenka “Radek, you have to get that other Gate working.”

“I’m doing my best Colonel.”

Sheppard was tired of hearing him repeat the same useless words. “Come on, Radek, Rodney’s life depends on it.”

Elizabeth laid one hand on John’s forearm and led him a few meters away from where Zelenka was working. “John, please...” was all she needed to say and Sheppard relented, nodding to Radek a silent apology. “Right, right...” But nothing of course was right about this. 

“Rodney will figure something out.” Elizabeth insisted.

Sheppard nodded but more for her benefit than his own. Rodney was a genius but even a genius worked by the clock and the clock was already ticking down to zero.

As if on cue, on the screen they watched as Rodney stopped and collapsed to his hands and knees, pausing to blow air and catch his breath. A nearby camera zoomed in on his face and the announcer’s voice made them all jump. “Is our Gamer giving up already? Bets are hot folks – play ‘m while you can.”

“Come on, Rodney, get up.” Sheppard said softly. “Get up, Rodney...goddamnit get off your ass...”

Elizabeth could see the exhaustion on her lead scientist’s blotchy face. This was no place for such a man. Rodney was a thinker, not a fighter. She had sent out her best scientist into an unknown and no one was going to have to pay the price but him. “Rodney...” Elizabeth said softly “Please get up.”

Rodney sat back on his haunches and began looking at his surroundings and it sent a faint thrill of hope racing through Sheppard’s chest. “That’s it.” He said as Rodney’s face underwent a sudden change, his brow furrowed, and his concentration more focused. Now to Elizabeth “He’s starting to think,” Sheppard told her, “he’s starting to use that crazy-smart brain of his and he’s going to think his way out of this.”

XXX

Rodney’s lungs burned hot but at least he had almost gotten his wind back. He knew however that he could not out-run the giant of a man who was hunting him. He had no weapons but perhaps if he could make one? Rodney scrambled around the forest floor, trying to find a stick that would pass for a suitable club, picking up and trying one after another. This one was too thin, this one brittle, that one too heavy to properly handle; this one too short...none fit the bill. “Dammit!” He shouted and flung it away from him.

Something caught his eye however, and he bent down. Beneath the fallen leaves, pushed to the side of the trail, were hard little tree-cones, each sporting sharp thorn-like seeds an inch long or more. All he had to do was slow his predator down. He didn’t have to face him head-on or hand-to-hand if he could just wound or cripple him enough. It was a risk though as he had lost two-thirds of his lead, and lying out even a simple trap would eat up half of what he had left.

Rodney swiftly looked up and down the path. Not here, there were no depressions in the soil and he needed at least two, at least two...Rodney stripped off his t-shirt and began gathering the tree-cones into it, tossing dozens and dozens of them into his make-shift cotton bag, as many as he thought he could carry, all the while shivering in the coolness of the tall trees. The path was wide enough that it was clearly where most of the hunts had occurred. 

Rodney scooped up his bag of cones and ran as fast as he could down the path, looking for just the right pair of spots. After a few minutes he stumbled as his bare right foot, already blistered and bleeding from running over hard roots and sharp-edged leaves, fell into a depression in the soil. Rodney scrambled to his feet and searched the area and, there, just a few meters down the rough path, was a second depression in the ground filled with dead leaves. Both were wide enough for what he needed.

Rodney spent some minutes pushing aside about half the leaves in both depressions, and then up-ended his t-shirt and spilled out the thorn-cones onto the ground. He swiftly arranged about half of them in a single layer in each wide hollow, and very carefully pushed the crinkling leaves back over the hidden cones, just enough of a layer to hide them but not enough to cushion the fine, needle-sharp thorns. 

Rodney stood back and surveyed his work. Did it appear natural enough? Would it fool him? Rodney suddenly had a thought that probably others had tried this and failed. But for now it was all he had. All he needed was to slow the guy down enough so he could stay ahead. At least that would give him more time to think of his next move. Rodney pulled his t-shirt back down over his head and ran away from the traps as fast as his painful feet would allow. He was down to less than fifteen minutes of leeway now.

XXX

“Good.” Sheppard said, “Good, if this works it should give him at least a chance.” Sheppard was proud of Rodney for working out the simple trap designed to wound or slow down his human predator. It was simple but if it worked - effective. No one could run very fast on bloody feet punched full of holes. “Good boy, Rodney...”

Another two miles up the hazardous forest path, a camera caught him as Rodney stopped and fell to his knees, winded once more. But then all of them, Rodney, the blood thirsty gamblers and his friends on Atlantis, heard a painful yowl in the distance. 

Rodney smiled gleefully. His trap had sprung. But there was no time to stop and celebrate. He looked at his watch, the only tool he had been allowed to keep. It was still five hours from dusk and the allotted rest period where neither would the hunter hunt nor the prey need to flee. All he needed now were some blankets, food and water and he might make it through the first night.

Sheppard bit his lip. Rodney’s first trap had been a success but now the hunter knew his prey was no ordinary one, and he would be on the alert for others. “What temperature does it drop to overnight there?” Sheppard asked.

Elizabeth answered “Just above freezing.” 

Sheppard nodded, wishing that Rodney had been granted at least one blanket. “He’s going to need food and water,” Sheppard said, “and a way to stay warm or he’s not going to last the night.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth said, wishing for whatever gods might be watching to grant Rodney that much at least. “Yes, I know.”

XXX

Rodney could feel the air rapidly cooling as the sun dipped toward the horizon. He could not see exactly how long he had until the night came down on him but he knew it wasn’t long. He also knew if he didn’t get some water he would be too weak from dehydration to run tomorrow. Already his throat was dry and his tongue sticky from lack of moisture. Whatever reserves his cells might have had he had sweated out.

Rodney then heard it, that wonderful, musical sound of running water. He picked his way through a dense grove of massive old growths and came upon a small rocky cliff, where the mountain side soil had crumbled and exposed the rock beneath. A small trickle of water was happily running down its face and Rodney scooped it up in his hands and drinking it down over and over for many minutes, needing to replenish his sapped strength and dry body. It tasted of rotting leaves but it was cool and refreshing and he drank deeply.

He had come across no food cashes, having had not even one spare minute to waste looking. The announcer had mentioned food and water...Rodney started looking around, just for a few minutes. He could spare a few minutes, he decided, as the light was almost gone and that meant five hours of precious rest to prepare for the next day. Plus it made sense that whatever food they might have hidden, chances are it would have been stashed next to any natural or stored sources of water.

Rodney almost gave up when he looked up at the fading light, only to see a small satchel hanging from a tree limb about ten feet above his head. To get at it, though, he would have to climb the tree in the near dark without shoes or gloves. At least there were some branches low enough that he thought he could do it, and perched one sore foot on the lowest limb, pulling himself up to the next limb and the next. Once he could reach the satchel, it was a simple matter of loosening the slip-knot and letting the bag fall to the ground. Rodney climbed back down and had almost reached the ground when, in the now total dark, his foot missed the final branch and he fell the rest of the way. Not too far a fall but he was enough off-balance that he landed on his left wrist and felt something over-extend, bend and then give with a snap! Pain shot up through his arm and he gasped, cradling his injured left hand in his right. “Shit!” Rodney gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain without saying anymore, lest he give away his location. 

Rodney sat and rocked on his backside for a moment, trying to work through the agony as Teyla had taught him in medication. Of course at that time she had made it sound so easy and he had not been in pain then. Leaving the broken wrist to throb on its own for a moment, Rodney untied the satchel and found inside one small meal worth of food: a few ounces of dried meat and three hard biscuits. But it was better than nothing and he was starving. Shoving one whole piece of dried meat into his mouth, Rodney slowly chewed the tough animal protein as he laid out the satchel on the ground and, using his teeth and his right hand, tore it into several wide strips. It was large enough that he could not only use it to wrap his wrist and make a sling, but he could use some of the strips as wraps for his tender feet which would make running tomorrow a little easier.

Rodney wrapped up his wrist as best he could, tying off the rags with a final narrow strip of the cloth using the fingers of his right hand and his teeth. But he had nothing for the pain and would have to try and sleep through it. He had no more time anyway to spend trying the meditation exercise, but at least rest time had arrived and Rodney gathered up his food, shoving the biscuits into his pockets and spent a another few precious moments trying to spot a good place to curl up in order to spend a very cold night in the woods. 

He was relieved when he spied a small area off the main path where a carpet of dead leaves had piled up. Here he crawled in, covering himself with as thick a layer as he could make. It helped, somewhat, keep out the cold. His own body’s warmth ought to do the rest. Rodney looked at his watch’s glowing face. It was after ten o’clock here. He set an alarm for four hours of sleep, not five, so he would have head start, though probably his pursuer had thought of the same thing. They were both injured now, so his earlier advantage was now gone. Rodney closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away and barking at his mind to rest. He would need all his thinking powers tomorrow.

 

He wondered what time it was back on Atlantis.  
XXX

Sheppard rubbed at his eyes and, other than bathroom breaks and the black cups of coffee Chuck kept placing into his hand, he had refused to walk away even for a moment from what was happening on the screen. Elizabeth had taken some of Rodney’s rest time to use the facilities and contact the Daedulus for an update on Zelenka’s urgent message to Colonel Carter. She had also ordered all non-essential personnel out of the control room and had called up some food from the mess hall.

Sheppard had brushed off the meal with a shake of his head and Elizabeth had not pushed it. He knew it was irrational but somehow Rodney being deprived of almost every comfort made it seem somehow obscene that he should sit comfortably in a warm room with food in his gut. Somehow it seemed proper that if Rodney was suffering, so should his commander. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor Weir, but Colonel Carter is aboard the Apollo and they are currently engaging Wraith ship, so for now they are in communication silence. I have no idea when that will change.”

“Thank you Colonel Caldwell.” She ended the connection. “Thanks for nothing.” Keeping her voice low although she knew Rodney could not hear her, she asked Sheppard “Is he sleeping finally?”

He nodded once. “Looks that way.”

Elizabeth had always maintained the belief that she was a strong woman, stronger than most, and more often than not had an answer or an action for any given crisis. But they were both helpless here, both stuck in non-action and mute inability. They could not reach out to Rodney, even with a kind touch of encouragement. They could not even speak to him of hope for rescue. He was totally alone in this one and she felt it weighing on her shoulders. She was the one who had asked him to do one last mission for the day and felt a fresh pang of guilt that she had sent him away hungry. 

To anyone else she would not have displayed such fear. But this was John Sheppard and she had come to rely on his strength as much as her own. Realising that pacing was accomplishing nothing useful she pulled up a chair to sit at his side. “What are we going to do, John?” It was difficult to keep her voice steady and her eyes clear. “How are we going to help him?”

Sheppard felt the fear slowly building inside him too as the clock ticked away the hours on Rodney’s too short rest period and the hour-glass of his life slowly drained away its grains of sand. Rodney was as smart as they came, and at heart a fighter, but he had never faced anything like this before. “I don’t know, Elizabeth, I don’t know.”

XXX

Part 2 asap.


	2. Part 2

All in to Win Part 2

To the tiny beeping of his watch’s alarm Rodney awoke stiff and in pain. His injured wrist had prevented any true restorative sleep during the night but at least he had been able to close his eyes for a few hours and rest his aching muscles. He sat up, the dew-covered leaves tumbling off in a little cascade and settling around him, making a hollow leaf barrow with him inside. It was cold enough that he could see his breath but at least there were two bright half moons in the sky and he could make out shapes, shadows and the glow of the dew on the trodden path nearby.

Pushing up with his right hand, he got to his feet and stamped his bare soles on the ground to promote circulation into his limbs. The little wraps on his feet were still in place and served to insulate them not only from the chilly soil but provide him with a barrier between the blistered and tender flesh of his naked soles and the rocks and branches that littered the forest floor.

He dug another piece of tough meat from his pocket and stuffed it in his mouth and then, while he located the little stream on the rock face to drink his fill, he nibbled on one of the hard tack biscuits. He might not find another cache of food so he needed to make what he did have last. Rodney drunk water until it sloshed around uncomfortably in his stomach. If only he had some kind of container to take more with him.

One last drink and he set off at an easy lope to conserve his energy and use the first few minutes to try and think ahead, to find a way through this next day of running, hiding and hoping for inspiration to strike. Sticking to the path was the fastest way to cover ground but it was also the most exposed and probably the way other victims had chosen, most probably having reasoned that faster was better.

But faster was not always better. Smarter was better. Rodney wished he had paid more attention to his war hero uncle, his father’s only brother and a man his father used to chide for his macho bragging about jungle war tactics, but dad never let him learn much beyond the next mathematical formula. Book-learning, computers, physics, chemistry and mathematics most of all had been his entire world since he was four years old and, later his sisters as well until she decided to escape it for a simpler life. Until the day he died their father never forgave her.

Rodney decided it would be worth it to go off path for a while just to see what was there. Why had the others only followed the path? Many must have since it was a fairly well worn part of the forest floor. Maybe they had no choice? Maybe there were barriers in place to prevent anyone from traveling at oblique angles to the path or doubling-back? Likely the hunters knew much that he didn’t and he needed to use what he hoped was his extra hour to learn.

XXX

Ronan had not slept at all, though Teyla had managed a few winks leaning on his shoulder. Almost the whole night he had kept his eyes focused on the screen set up not far from the enclosure, the large screen provided for the entertainment of the local viewers, some of whom stayed over-night to drink and enjoy themselves, and for those who were the organizers of this cruel spectacle to keep an eye on proceedings and make certain things went according to whatever unspoken agenda beyond the game they might have.

 

Watching Rodney’s breath rising from the pile of leaves was only somewhat comforting for Ronan. It was good that the scientist had managed to survive the first day, but it was only the first day. Still, Ronan had been proud of Rodney’s little thorn-cone trap and had himself shouted a cheer in private as the painted hunter had gone hard down holding up his injured foot. Seeing the blood spurt from the deep puncture holes had been the most satisfying part. But now Rodney was injured as well and things did not look so hopeful.

“Is he awake? Is he on the move again?” Teyla asked as she opened her eyes and noted the pile of leaves on the screen was smaller and mussed up, as though something had crawled from beneath them.

“Yeah.” Ronan said. “He’s exploring, trying to figure things out.”

That made Teyla’s heart sink, knowing how curious, sometimes dangerously so, Rodney could be. “He should be running. Why is he not?”

Ronan understood. Rodney may rightly boast about his brains but that translated into a man who was smart enough to understand his physical limitations. Rodney was not a soldier or a woodsman and, for all his off-world missions and the exercise that had whittled down his body fat to a healthier ratio, he was still not an athlete. Running would not save his life. But perhaps learning more about the circumstances surrounding his plight would. 

“I hope he can remember some of the things I’ve taught him.” Ronan said. That was not him talking so much as Sheppard’s voice echoing in his head. “Be positive” had been Sheppard’s advice when dealing with the easily panicked McKay. “He’s got the best brain I’ve ever met, but he’s not so good with the hope side of things.” 

“You have been teaching him?” Teyla asked.

Ronan nodded, knowing she could feel his head move beside her in the slowly greying dawn. “About survival here n’ there, whenever he was paying attention.” That had not happened too often. Ronan tried not to fault the scientist. On a mission turned sour, most often Rodney’s focus had usually been forced away from the actual track, shoot, and kill side of things to the fix-this-or-we’re-all-dead part of the equation and in that McKay had proved to be the team’s irreplaceable man. 

“Rodney will think of something.” Teyla said.

Ronan watched the screen. McKay was still moving away from the path and through denser bush. To Ronan who had run for years from the Wraith it was simple “He has to.”

XXX

It had been a tiring climb the last quarter mile, his head down watching where he put his feet, so he almost didn’t see it until he was a meter away from touching it. Rodney had to force an abrupt halt from his strained muscles at the structure that loomed before him. In the pink light of morning he bent his head back and looked up, then side to side. 

An enormous mental fence made of cross-crossed bars, each a half inch thick stood in his way. It was a hundred feet tall and stretched to his right and left, its support posts, also of metal, were imbedded along a rocky shield as far as he could see. Rodney wondered if he could climb that high with his broken wrist, and then down the other side. It would be tough going but he just might...

As Rodney stepped one foot closer he suddenly smelled it; a sharp, metallic taste in the air, and burning...he stepped quickly away again recognising the odor of an electrically charged surface. This is why no one had ever ventured this far off track, they must have known or had heard the stories from others who’d somehow managed to escape. There was no freedom through this. He would die and then fry to a crispy critter in no time. 

Rodney felt his hopes dashed and looked at his watch. His hour head-start was up, and he still had no idea how he was going to...then he heard the ruffling of the ground leaves and the unmistakable sound of misplaced pebbles as feet dislodged them. They were the sounds of travel over-ground. The sure footsteps of the hunter approached. Faint, still a distance away, but in the quiet of the forest, clear enough. The hunter was upon him, perhaps only hundreds of meters away now, and a few dozen meters below the rise upon which he had climbed. 

Rodney crouched down to conceal his body and to give himself a moment to think. He searched around the forest floor and the nearby trees. Just more leaves, brittle branches long made dead-fall by years and weather, more rocks piled here and there, over-hangs full of them, and tall, thin pines that reminded him of the woods that surrounded the city of his birth. There was little else.

Rodney remembered something Ronan had told him. “If you can’t kill them, slow them down, main them, distract, fool them, funnel them into danger, terrify them...do what you can do, not what you wish you could do.”

Advice that was all very well and good but he had no weapons, no real rope but for his ragged clothes, not even a good whittling knife in his pocket. Rodney stared at one of the rock over-hangs, lost in thought...

But what he did have plenty of were rocks and gravity. Upon closer inspection, there were boulders among the rocks and stones, quite a respectable number of them, and one small collection teetering a bit to the ledge of the over-hang. It took Rodney a minute to climb around to the crumbling back of the pile and have a closer look. Below there was a small cirque where previous slides had carved out the hillside before more rocks had loosened from the above shield outcropping, piling up once more.

The problem with a rockslide is there was no way to ensure your prey might be where you need them to be when you trigger it. You needed bait. Rodney swallowed hard in a sandpaper throat. Already he could feel the thirst creeping back. He had no bait.

Except himself.

XXX

Ronan watched as Rodney worked it out in his head, the angle, the leverage he would need, the trigger rock, the strips of cloth, dirty and stained with his own blood and sweat, to tie together and use as a make-shift rope...if they were strong enough. “Good.” Ronan said. “He knows what to do, but he only has a few minutes.”

Teyla watched as well, trying to search for Rodney’s pain with her mind, and perhaps give him some ease. She could connect with a Wraith queen, so why could she not get a connection with a human mind as well? So far under all experiments, she had been unable to but those times had been in confining laboratories with physical controls and ease of feelings. This arena of suffering was something altogether different. Maybe the stress would allow her a mental tunnel to her team mate? Perhaps the urgency of the situation might open the way? Rodney, hear me, it is Teyla...your pain is no more, it belongs to me now...your pain is mine...it is mine...listen to me...listen...

XXX

Rodney made his hands hurry despite the pain in his wrist, which was not hurting so much right then, a welcome reprieve from the constant throbbing. He knotted the strips of cloth together and searched for a thick limb long enough to give him the leverage needed to shift, just a little, the largest boulder onto the trigger rock he had wedged in beneath it. After working out the exact angle he would need, and the direction it needed to fall, it took the force of his entire body to shift the boulder so it rested slightly more of its mass against the trigger rock that what was resting against the slope of smaller boulders upon which it sat. Then he looped his rope around the space at the back of the smaller rock and tied it off tightly, leaving the longer end of the cloth-rope, winding it around his good hand. 

His trap was set. Now all he needed to do was attract the attention of the big alien trying to kill him. “Great plan, McKay...” Rodney muttered. “Yeah, real great plan.” But Ronan’s words urged him onward. There was no other choice anyway. He could not outrun him, he could not out-climb, he could not defeat him hand-to-hand, it was this or nothing and he was out of time. 

But he couldn’t make it appear too easy for the hunter to locate him or the guy might smell a trap. He had looked at least intelligent enough for that, Rodney decided, plus the blue-painted monster had probably done this before. “Who knows how many this guy has slaughtered – right, Rod’?” He whispered to himself, trying to keep his panic at bay. “For all you know, if this doesn’t work, you might be number two thousand and fifty-eight. He might be going for a record.” Rodney clamped his mouth shut, realising he wasn’t doing much to stop the rising fear in his chest. “Good one, Rodney, keep talking like that and you’ll be dead in no time.” 

He would cough. That ought to be enough to attract the tattooed Sasquatch, Rodney thought, smiling to himself. Humor was good, humor helped keep his thoughts focused on survival, not dying, and not on his pain. “This’ll work, this’ll work...besides if I die whose going to be around to keep ‘em laughing, eh McKay?” he whispered to the trees. Rodney listened for a few seconds but the footsteps he had heard were gone. Perhaps the guy had gone ahead? “Hmph, if a brilliant man falls dead alone in a forest, does he make a sound?” That made him smile just a bit. Sheppard liked his dry sense of humor at least.

Then the footsteps were back and much, much closer this time. No such luck.

Rodney swiftly set himself in place, lying on his right side with the rope wound tightly in his hand and pretty well setting himself up as possum directly beneath the teetering boulder, generally arranging his limbs so he appeared injured and unconscious, but making sure he could see as wide as area as possible down slope. When he thought the fellow was just at the right spot below him, he coughed.

His heart in his throat, Rodney heard the footsteps cease and then leaves being pushed out of the way as the man waded up the slope toward him. Rodney was sure he could easily be seen by the hunter now. His hand tightened on the rope. Wait Rodney, wait, wait, not too soon, not too soon...

Rodney opened one eye just enough to make sure and when the huge man was only fifteen meters below, he rolled to one side and yanked as hard on the rope as he possible could. Once the trigger rock was dislodged, it took what seemed like an eternity for the large boulder to begin to move as it slowly drifted toward the pull of gravity and its inevitable tumble. 

Rodney wanted to scream at it to hurry up and then gravity finally began to take hold and turn the potential energy of the boulders’ mass into the kinetic energy of a landslide. But once it began to roll, it accelerated swiftly, turning over in earnest and taking many other smaller boulders and rocks with it, all tumbling ferociously toward the hunter who saw it too late to scramble completely out of the way. The large boulder missed him but a smaller one no less a lethal projectile slammed into the side of his chest as he turned to flee away from the direction of the tumbling rocks, knocking him back with the force of a Wraith blaster.

Rodney sat up and searched through the dust and grit, trying to see if his ruse had worked. He pushed himself to his feet and spent a few seconds un-tying the rope from the little trigger rock that had been his salvation as his eyes scanned through the falling dust cloud. 

There, thirty meters down, lay the giant of a man, sprawled flat on his back. Rodney thought that perhaps he should just run, but he had to make sure the guy was dead. He grabbed up the biggest rock he could manage with one hand and, his heart in his throat, stumbled down the freshly laid dirt and rocks, approaching the fallen hunter. As far as he could see, his chest was not moving. The right side of his body actually looked as though it had been caved in. There was little chance anyone could live through such a blow, except for maybe a Wraith.

Rodney held the rock over his head and then hesitated before launching it at the man’s skull. It seemed over-kill, the guy was already dead. But Ronan’s words kept coming back to him. “Never assume your enemy’s dead. If you have time, make sure.” 

Not enjoying the unpleasant prospect of crushing a dead man’s skull, especially one who was probably caught up in this prison-war-game every bit as involuntarily as he was, Rodney closed his eyes and brought the rock down on the man’s forehead expecting it to simply bounce off. But it didn’t. Rodney felt his skull immediately cave in, and blood and grey matter spilled out all over his hands. 

Rodney opened his eyes and stumbled back, landing on his backside, shaking the gore from his fingers. Suddenly it was a little difficult to breathe as he watched the insides of the hunter’s head continue to ooze out onto the dirt and before he could stop it, the bile in his stomach suddenly rose in his throat in a bolus and he was vomiting up the remnants of his meagre breakfast and whatever fluid remained from his morning drink. 

Spitting out the foul taste, Rodney realised he was still shaking from the surge of adrenaline that had been coursing through his body like a river for the last few minutes. Wiping off as much of the rest of the gore as he could from his hand on some nearby leaves, he used his dirty sleeve and wiped away the few tears of relief that had sprung to his eyes at the realization he was still alive. 

Taking a few deep, calming breaths Rodney staggered to his feet. Stuffing the rope into his pocket he cradled his painful wrist and set off at a jog, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the corpse as possible - all the better to wipe it from his mind. He would re-wrap his feet later.

XXX

Rodney, despite the impression he had given Ronan of almost never listening to him, had evidently been absorbing much of Ronan’s instructions in relation to survival and what it took from within oneself to do so. He should have remembered that Rodney had an in-born ability to retain almost everything he read and heard despite his claims of being “face and name stupid”. 

Ronan silently applauded Rodney’s successful slaughter of a man nearly twice his size. Teyla was right, Rodney was indeed an excellent scientist and thinker, but over time he had become a fighter as well. He had not only bourn continual pain, cold and hunger; he had conquered a larger, more powerful foe in two strikes. Ronan had observed such transformations before in others when faced with life or death. Some curled up and surrendered like mice, others grew talons and wings. Rodney may have once been a man of only technical things, hot meals and a soft bed, but he had become much more in Atlantis – in his own way he had become a warrior among a group of warriors.

“Did you teach him that?” Teyla asked.

Ronan shook his head. “No, I’ve been trying to teach him to use his surroundings to protect himself, to fashion weapons and traps, but there’s one thing Rodney understood that at the time I didn’t.”

“What?”

“He’s not me.”

“I am not sure I understand.”

“Rodney knew he would never be able to fight like me or fashion effective enough weapons to use against those he knew would be stronger than him anyway, so he’s combining what he knows with what I taught him. He’s using his environment itself to fight for him.” Ronan nodded his approval of a man that not so many years ago he had incorrectly viewed as weak. “I’m proud of him.” A personal opinion he had never spoken to Rodney.

“Of course you are. He is your friend.” Teyla shared another thing she had observed. “Ronan, when the guard with the red shoulder pads draws close to the enclosure he is often wearing his weapon on his right hip, and its holster is sometimes open.”

Ronan nodded. “I know. We might be able to get at it when the right time comes.”

Teyla feared that time might come too late. Rodney had done well but he had two and half days left and many miles to go. 

XXX 

A collective sigh of relief had gone up when they had watched the hunter fall dead. Weir had muttered “Thank goodness.” Beckett had sighed out “Oh thank God” while Zelenka muttered something in Czech’ and then crossed himself.

Sheppard had kept his own counsel, knowing it wasn’t over yet. “Zelenka, any way we can tap into that signal?”

“We...we still haven’t been able to make a connection of any kind between their DHD and ours.”

“No, I mean the signal itself. If we can we need to get a better idea of what Rodney’s up against, maybe get an aerial view of what’s happening.”

Zelenka scooted his chair closer to Atlantis’s DHD and began thinking. “Well, if their planet has orbital relays of some sort, satellites, I just might be able to write a graft program and do some snooping of our own, but it’s going to take a while to learn the code.”

“Do whatever you can as fast as you can.” Sheppard slipped away to a head to empty his bladder and splash some water on his face. 

Rodney had not reacted well to killing the hunter and that was worrisome. Sheppard had seen the scientist mow down Wraith or replicators without batting an eyelash, but then genetically Wraith were half Iratus bug, not to mention they were murderous bastards, and Replicators were machines and murderous bastards, too. That’s about the Pegasus galaxy seemed to produce, races trying to kill them. Rodney worked with machines all the time and knew they were not true life, or at least that’s what he believed of the Replicators, and taking into consideration Rodney’s numerous allergies, Sheppard had never seen him hesitate to slap at a biting insect so killing a Wraith had never proved a problem for the scientist, once he had improved his aim that is.

But killing a human, or someone who looked like a human, that was a situation he wasn’t certain Rodney had ever faced. Maybe with the Genii? Sheppard tried to remember whether or not Rodney had had to take out a Genii at any point. When you’re in a battle zone, you don’t stop to count the dead bad guys or worry about who it was who had shot them. Just so long as they were dead, that’s all that mattered.

And shooting someone from fifty yards with a P-90 is not the same thing as taking up a rock and caving in someone’s skull with your bare hands. That tends to leave emotional residue, and Rodney was already carrying his fair share of that since joining the Atlantis expedition. Still, he had attended Sheppard’s mandatory lectures on self preservation and learning to set aside emotion in order to make the correct decisions that would lead to your own survival. Unfortunately setting aside emotion was a practise Rodney hadn’t quite got the hang of yet. 

Sheppard guessed that Rodney had vomited up some of that emotion into the dirt. Killing could be triumphant or soul-condemning, depending on whom you were. Sheppard thought of something else and headed back to control, quietly asking Beckett the moment he was next to him. “Rodney just vomited, is that a bad sign - I mean other than the fact he, you know, vomited? What are the symptoms of hypoglycemia?” 

Beckett nodded. “I wondered when you’d latch onto that. He’s had some food but he’s also going at a high pace for hours at a time, so it’s doubtful he’s had enough calories. However vomiting is usually one of the last symptoms before coma and he looks fairly coordinated as far as I can tell, so I doubt he’s in any danger of that at this stage. I think he threw up because, well, he’d just...” Beckett left it hanging.

Sheppard nodded. “Well, yeah, sometimes killing can be nauseating.”

Two long hours later Zelenka shouted something in Czech and waved them all over. “We were able to upload our own graft signal to theirs, it should give us access to their orbital relay – we’ll be able to see what’s happening from above.” Zelenka punched a button and the scene on Weir’s large screen turned from close-ups switching back and forth from the grounds where the enclosure was and to Rodney in the forest, now to an aerial view of the entire landscape.

“Can you get a wider angle?” Sheppard could now see a picture of the entire terrain over which Rodney was being forced to travel. The curve of the planet was visible in the distance. Rodney was in fact running along a tract of varied terrain of enormous size set upon a high, twisting ridge of rock and forest. Some sections were two kilometers wide and the entire thing at least hundred kilometers in length. Eventually it curved back on itself, the dense forest finally thinning out into a meadow near where it all began. 

“What is that?” Sheppard spotted what appeared to be man-made structures. Zelenka spotted it as well and punched in a set of code to zoom the view closer in again. “That looks like a fence.” Zelenka said. “A very big fence,..uh my readings show it’s full of charge, in other words electrified. And along that ridge...” He pointed, “Do you see? High stone walls, they must be fifty feet high. No way can he get over that.”

“Maybe this is some sort of Ancient remnant, a fortification the hybrids found and converted?” Weir suggested.

Sheppard thought that it was as good a guess as anything, not that it mattered much. That Rodney would not be able to side-step his course, that was the crucial fact. He was stuck with no choice but to go forward. “Look at that.” Weir said and Zelenka thought he knew what she meant, altering his controls to zoom in on a narrow gorge full of rushing water not more than a quarter mile for the Finish. It ran from one side of the enclosed terrain to the other. There was no bridge and no visible means of crossing it.

“To ensure the prey never makes it to the Finish.” Sheppard guessed then adding sarcastically “Yeah, real fair game they got going here.” 

“Um, something is happening.” Zelenka said. “They’re...they’re making an announcement maybe...I think.” He switched from the aerial view back to the normal feed from the planet. 

Indeed the hybrid with the mic’ was speaking again. “I’ll wager our little Gamer has proved more tenacious that most of you wagered, hasn’t he? Ha-ha! Our prey in fact has Placed! You who bet on Placement collect your winnings, the rest of our viewers still have a chance to win-win-win and if they’re brave enough, to go all in! So then, let’s up the stakes a little in this game of life and skill and give him two friends – let’s see which he can kill! Pay attention now and make your fondest wish, to see them on their journey to the big exciting Finish!”

Zelenka muttered “Terrible poetry,” and then dropped his head to his controls when Weir threw him a frown.

On the screen from deep in the forest a second hunter emerged from what appeared to be a camouflaged bunker. This was another large, muscled male with a bow slung over his one shoulder and a quiver of arrows on his back. With a leash he also led an animal that resembled something cat-like. It immediately began to sniff the ground and the air, hungrily sticking out its snubbed nose, gathering scent.

Sheppard felt his heart drop. “Now that’s not fair at all.” No longer could Rodney take his pursuer by surprise, the animal would sniff him, or any traps of his, out right away. And now the hunter was armed, where Rodney was not. “Those cheating bastards...Radek - any luck with the DHD?” Sheppard asked the Czech scientist. “Any getting through and I’m not talking a Jumper, I’m mean anyone? Just one person – one??” 

Zelenka shook his head, realising along with everyone else the even greater danger Rodney was now in. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I-I wish there was. Without the repair done from the other side...”

“Goddamn-it!” Sheppard turned to Beckett. “How long can Rodney go with the kind of pain he must be in, or without a proper meal – or enough water?” Rodney had lots of strikes against him, and it appeared there was only more to come.

Beckett knew it was useless to mince words. Rodney’s situation was grave. “Another day perhaps, unless the hunter and his dog - or whatever it is - catches up to him before then.” 

Suddenly Sheppard thought of something he hadn’t before. As new thoughts went, it was particularly unpleasant. “This whole thing was rigged right from the beginning. Even if Rodney does somehow get through to the end, they’ll probably just kill him anyway.”

Weir looked sharply at him. The thought had not occurred to her before. “Because if anyone was allowed to go free, then word would eventually get around that this was happening to innocent people and someone would have shut it down before now.”

“Word is probably already out there but I’m betting they have defences in place to prevent interference. There must be huge dividends to staging something like this or it wouldn’t be worth the man-power and resources. I’ll wager they’re gambling with something besides money.” Sheppard suddenly had another awful thought. “Zelenka, can you scan the planet, see if there’s, I dunno’, anything in orbit around it, I mean anything besides the relays?”

Zelenka nodded and his fingers worked for a few seconds. “You’re right, Colonel, there’s a Gate in orbit as well as the one on the ground. That’s weird, I’ve never heard of that before.”

Sheppard’s second fear was confirmed. ‘That’s because they found the second one and moved it to an orbital position above the planet.” He glanced at the floor, waiting...

Zelenka suddenly gasped. “Um...Colonel...Doctor Weir, I’ve located other...objects in random orbits around the planet...”

“What objects?” Weir asked.

“Um...bodies I am afraid. Lots of them...”

Weir went pale. “How many? How many bodies?”

“Impossible to tell, their patterns of orbit are irregular, but at least...several...several hundred.” 

“My god - human?” She asked.

Zelenka said sadly “Again, impossible to tell.”

Sheppard first fear was now confirmed. “Even if Rodney makes it and they let him step through the Gate to supposedly come home, he steps through to his death. They’ll dial that Gate and force him to join the other game losers in orbit. It’s the only way they’ve managed to keep this going. I suspect one of their defenses is a ship in orbit as well, maybe cloaked, to destroy any rescue attempts. That’s probably why so far no one has been able to do anything to stop this.” The weird little game-show hybrid horde certainly planned their Pegasus entertainment well. Michael hadn’t bred any dummies. 

“Well, we’re going to stop it.” Weir said, “Somehow.”

Sheppard nodded. “If we don’t, win or lose no one goes home but the hybrids and the gamblers.”

“And so the son-of-a-bitches are free to play another day.” She whispered. 

XXX

When Rodney first heard the sound, he wasn’t sure what it could be. Wind? Water? The soft whoosh of a Puddle Jumper engine would be too much to ask probably. Rodney took a moment to rest, sitting up with his back against a thick tree. He had survived his second night and started out early the next morning as before to put some distance between him and whatever might be tracking him now. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that after successfully killing the first hunter, they would simple let him stroll to the finish line as casual as you please.

Then he heard it a second time, in the distance, kilometers away; a faint tone that rose and fell, like the howl of a wolf. Or the baying of a dog.

Rodney got to his feet and listened again. The air was soft today and still, and yet the noise did not rise again. What if the next hunter had a dog or something? He would never be able to fool a dog’s nose. Rodney thought not for the first time during his ordeal, that he was a dead man. “Shit!”

It was time to run.

XXX  
Part 3 soon. 


	3. Part 3 - final chapter

All in to Win Part 3 (final chapter)

It was a dog's nose! What could he do against a dog-or-whatever's nose? All Rodney knew was that the baying was getting closer no matter how hard he ran. As his lungs threatened to cease and his heart threatened to burst he came to understand that this contest, if that's what it could euphemistically be called, was probably un-winnable. They've designed my inevitable death, manufactured my demise, I'm a rat running on a deadly wheel and someone's about to throw the switch! I'm a dead-man, Hello! – Dead man running here...

But in an unceasing and desperate counter-measure to his own terrified pessimism still he ran and ran until he found himself in a spot where the trees surrounded him and the wind had stopped. Rodney bent over and blew for a minute, trying to gather some oxygen back into his starving cells, and then held his breath for a few seconds - long enough to confirm that he could no longer hear the dog-whatever's weird howl. Not foolish enough to assume that he had actually out-run the hunter and his track animal, he assumed they were as flesh and blood as he was and if so needed at least some minutes of rest.

His legs tingled with exertion but Rodney did not make the mistake of sitting, not even for a minute. His wrist ached terribly and he knew if he sat down it would be all that much more difficult to rise again. Plus there was the risk of his feet swelling at the sudden cessation of movement and all the other muscles in his body that would violently protest such a flurry of rest and then run. And he knew he was getting dangerously dehydrated from lack of water, soon his muscles would begin to cramp from it. Then he would suffer worsening dizzy spells, unconsciousness, coma and death if he tried to go another day like the last almost - Rodney glanced at his watch - three days.

Rodney cradled his painful wrist to his chest like a broken child. It was swollen and he could feel the growing numbness in the tips of his fingers as the nerves and arteries in the injured limb were compressed. At least his fingers no longer hurt. Rodney made his feet move and broke into a jog, finding and once again sticking to the path this time as the cuts on the soles of his feet, burning like fire, made it impossible for him to move through dense brush. At least running numbed that pain, too.

As he stumbled/ran, with his good hand he felt around in his pocket for the one remaining hard tack biscuit and was about to bite down when he came upon a strange sight. A long-limbed bush as tall as a building sat next to the path, its naked branches being gnawed upon by dozens of little rodent-like animals, busily consuming the last of the delicate leaves. Rodney stopped, taking a few seconds to study the two-legged creatures which ceased their chewing to stare curiously back, their constant gnawing making the bush quiver as though it was alive. But once their tiny brains clued in that their dinner had been rudely interrupted they squeaked with alarm and scattered in all directions.

All but one. A young one, clinging by ridiculously long toes to a low branch, and one Rodney reasoned that was not in tune to its older cousin's flee from any strange creature instinct. Rodney held out his hand to it and it drew its long neck back in fear. Then an idea struck him. He switched the biscuit to his painful left hand he held it out again. This time the rodent sniffed it. The odd little creature gave him an idea and Rodney kept the biscuit as still as he could while the animal nibbled contentedly as his right hand drew closer and closer to the tiny thing, until his fingers were inches from the nape of its neck.

One snatch and the tiny thing was screeching at him and struggling furiously, trying to bite him anywhere it could sink its razor teeth into flesh. Rodney plopped on the ground and untied one of the two filthy rags encasing his sore feet, forcing his injured wrist to do work it should not be doing while his uninjured one did its best to keep the animal's sharp teeth from puncturing his arm. He tied the bloody rag around the tiny rodent as best he could without pulling it too tight – he didn't want to hurt it - far from it in fact. He wanted the creature to survive and thrive. Mostly he wanted it to run in a direction, like through the bush, which would take the dog-whatever's nose away from his true heading.

Rodney finished tying off the rag and then let the tiny animal go. It squeaked madly at him one last time and dashed off through the forest to find its brethren, trailing the bloody rag along the ground behind it.

Rodney struggled to his feet, which was getting harder and harder to do, and set off once more - this time with one foot bare and unprotected - and a pronounced limp.

XXX

Sheppard watched Rodney's rodent ruse and nodded to himself. Survival tactics, fool the enemy, it might just buy him some time. "Zelenka - where does that gorge run?"

Zelenka switched to the plant's satellite feed. "The river splits a few kilometers closer to the main camp. It basically drains into a fertile delta and then into a massive lake ten kilometers further down."

"I wonder how many of their victims chose to jump into the gorge as a last resort." Sheppard wondered aloud.

Beckett looked over at him, and at Weir. None of them had left the control room and the events playing out on the ancient screen for more than few minutes at a time since the show had begun and they were all starting to look as wired as their frazzled nerves. "I guarantee no person would survive such a fall." Beckett said. "It's a hundred meters at least. Death would be almost instantaneous and if you didn't die right away you'd break your spine and drown."

Weir added "Hence the bodies in orbit. Whoever jumps gets later scooped from the river and dumped in orbit or somehow transported there." Rodney would not jump. Rodney panicked about impending doom –which usually spurred him on to even greater brilliance than usual to save them all when disaster struck– and he often complained whenever he was hurt, hungry, tired, or out of coffee, but despite it all Weir knew he was not a fatalist – he would not simply jump when it seemed he was out of options, Weir was sure of it. "Rodney won't jump. He'll find another way." She spoke so she could hear Sheppard's reassurances, too. Sheppard knew Rodney better than anyone.

Weir felt her innards go cold when all he said was "He has to."

Weir swallowed hard, feeling useless for the hundredth time since it had all begun because they were not at all able to help Rodney, Ronan or Teyla. "Radek," Weir suddenly asked "can we send a message – to the hybrids? Warn them to back off - to stop this? Maybe threaten them that we're coming to rescue our people?" Even if we're not.

To her continuing disappointment, Zelenka shook his head. "Tapping into their live feed is one thing but actually getting a proper message through, one they would understand... no way, it would just come out as noise to them."

Weir tried not to let her frustration with Zelenka show on her face. He was an excellent scientist and researcher but he was no Rodney. A thought struck her - when was the last time she had actually made sure Rodney knew that? Had she or anyone among her staff expressed to Doctor McKay how she and all of Atlantis appreciated his extraordinary abilities? Had she ever expressed to him how thankful she was that countless times he had worked himself to the point of physical collapse trying to keep Atlantis safe against their enemies? Had she ever said how grateful she was that, after all these years and the things he had personally endured, he had stayed on protecting the city and the people that had come to - often secretly - care for him? She's not sure she ever had spoken the words aloud. Well if - when – she saw him again, this time she would make damn sure to do so.

Suddenly Sheppard sucked in a breath, and he looked over at her as an idea took shape in his mind. "Radek, how much noise do you think you can generate?" They had been thinking too high tech, reaching for too high of a goal. "We can't send a message through but we can still send noise - right? Do you think you could make that noise bad enough and loud enough that they'll stop to see what the trouble is? Maybe repair the Gate to full function even if it's only for a few minutes?"

Weir caught on instantly. "John, that's brilliant – Radek?"

But Zelenka was already switching wires and pressing buttons. "This'll take a few minutes to set up but..." Eyes bright, he looked at Sheppard with respect for the one good idea they'd had since the whole awful mess started. Anxious to get going on it he said "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll deafen them for you Colonel."

Sheppard nodded and then turned to Weir. "I'm going to need two Jumpers ready to go in the Gate room in sixteen minutes." Sheppard touched his ear bug, "Lorne – ready two teams of two. Meet me in the Gate room in ten. Full weapons and armor - this is a rescue and it'll be hot both ways." Sheppard sprinted to the Jumper Bay, working out the mission details en-route.

XXX

The gorge appeared before him right at the edge of the trees and it forced Rodney from a limping run to a full stop. It stretched as far as he could see in both directions and his heart dropped to a new low. Suddenly he understood why the hunter had not caught up to him; he hadn't stopped to rest as Rodney had hoped, he'd been simply taking his time knowing the gorge was here to stop his preys' escape.

Rodney didn't need to scout to know that this newest obstacle reached the electrified fence on one side and whatever barrier they no doubt had put in place on the other. Very faintly, above the wind, Rodney heard the distant sound of running feet to tell him the hunter was upon him, only minutes away now. He could hear no howling dog-thing so his little rat-rag ruse had possibly bought him some extra time though it was moot now anyway, since he had nowhere to go.

Rodney knelt down to look over the edge. The drop was a hundred meters straight down and the water angry, fast, and churning around and over rocks. Even if the jump didn't break his neck which it likely would, the chances he wouldn't land on a boulder was less than fifty-fifty. Down was out of the question.

But what about over? At its narrowest the gap was only eight or nine meters across. Rodney looked around, but there were no vines or anything that he could weave together into a respectable rope, even if he had such time as would make that feasible. Plus he doubted he could throw anything that far and even if he could there was nothing around that would serve as a reasonable grappling hook. And his wrist would make any hand-over-hand to the other side impossible to execute anyway.

The only other possibility was a bridge. Rodney looked up at the tall, thin trees, splitting the setting sunlight into dust-strewn lasers. These were so much like Lodge pole pines, so much like home.

"Home was never like this." He muttered. There were however, dozens of fallen logs but even so, he did a quick calculation in his head, each would weight hundreds of pounds, far too heavy for him to lift never mind somehow holding it up away from gravity as he edged it across the gorge. But there were also other trees that were half fallen...near to falling...they just needed the right encouragement and even one would be enough to support his weight as he crossed.

Rodney tried not to think how he would manage crossing such a high gorge, with his fear of heights to boot, while injured and on a single log with only the circumference of his upper leg. Thankfully, though, most of the tilting trees were thirty or more meters long, he just needed to locate one that was close to the gorge and leaning the right way.

There it was. It was long enough and thick enough with its broken roots close enough to the edge of the cliff. All he had to do was find a shorter limb for leverage and he should just be able to...Rodney located just the right one, a two meter long deciduous limb and spent a few seconds working out the angles. He only had once chance at this before the hunter would be upon him.

"Don't fuck this up Rodney." He said under his breath as he worked the thick limb into place at the base of the leaning pole. Another leaning pole had caught it up and was preventing it from making it all the way to the forest floor. Had the pole been allowed to fall naturally, he would already have the needed bridge, but luck hadn't been running his way an awful lot on this planet.

Rodney took a breath and asked Teyla's gods to cut him some much needed slack, pressing down with all his might on the shorter limb, and then leaning all his weight on it until his feet left the ground. It was enough to dislodge the pine's already half upturned roots and with a great groan it let go of its hold on the loose soil, falling with a great crash across the gorge.

Teyla's gods were, however, not so willing to see him celebrate his victory for long, and to prove it an arrow suddenly imbedded itself into his left upper arm. Rodney looked down curiously. One second his arm was fine, the next a bloody tip of an arrow was sticking out the front of it. He watched fascinated as a droplet of blood fell to the dirt.

Then the pain hit and he bit down hard on his lip. A memory suddenly flashed across his mind. Ronan had been shot once with an arrow on a planet where the natives had not much welcomed the Lantean's impromptu visit. Rodney had watched as Ronan broke off the feathered end and then pulled the offending thing out of his forearm, tossing it aside with annoyance.

Rodney knew he had to get rid of it and with his good arm, reached across his chest until he could wrap his fingers around the feathered end, breaking it off in one smooth motion. The arrow had not hit bone but had gone through only about a half inch of fatty flesh, just missing the underlying muscle. He then pulled the shaft through with little resistance and threw it to the ground.

Turning around he saw that the hunter was only a few hundred meters away now and as he ran was readying another arrow in his bow, this one appearing much longer and far more lethal looking.

Rodney was out of time. He hoped the pine log was stable enough and would not shift beneath his feet as he crawled over the tangle of roots and soil onto the log. It was much narrower at the other end and he knew it would be more and more difficult to balance as he made his way to the other side. "Okay, McKay, you can do this...you can, don't look down, just don't look down...come on...one foot in front of the other and repeat."

But the going was painful and slow. His one naked foot protested the ill treatment of its wounds by stinging badly and with each step the partly closed sores and blisters were torn open again, causing fresh blood and fluid to flow, making each new step slippery. Rodney called up every lesson he could remember from Teyla's meditation classes to stifle the pain he was in. Using his arms to balance, he was making good progress though and knew he was nearly to the other side. Only a meter or two to go.

Suddenly a terrible pain in his right thigh knocked him off his feet and it was all he could do to wrap his legs and arms around the narrow tree to stop from plummeting to the gorge below. He clung there desperately, turning his head as far as he could to see what was wrong. Two sights met his stunned eyes. One was a long, thick shaft sticking out of his right upper leg and the other was, behind him at the end of the log, the hunter already pulling another arrow from his quiver to finish the job of killing him.

As fast as his trembling limbs could manage Rodney swiftly pulled himself forwards on the log. First his hands, painful wrist and all, and then his legs, until his fingers brushed the soil on the other side. Then, finally, he was able wrap his right fist in some twists of grass and pulled himself to solid ground once more.

He turned his body half way, waiting until the hunter had stepped foot onto the log at the other end, and then kicked at the pole with his left leg until it rolled sideways down a slight incline. It was not enough to send the log to the watery depths below but it was enough to discourage the hunter from trying the same route across. The log at Rodney's end was resting on its thinnest and weakest point, as would now make a crossing impossible for anyone.

But Rodney realised all the man had to do was maybe readjust the log or make himself a new bridge in much the same way so he waited, lying flat in the grass until he saw the fellow sling his bow and reach down to fix the single log bridge from his side, and then he kicked at it again as hard as he could. With a satisfying splash, the log rolled and then disappeared over the edge hitting the water below with a large splash.

But it was impossible to feel anything but agony and Rodney lay gasping for air as the pain from his thigh overwhelmed his senses. He had never felt such pain in his life, a flesh-on-fire pain, as though his leg had been cut in two.

For the moment he was at least under cover of a sort, in tall grass and, he hoped, difficult to see. But not totally invisible as became evident when another arrow sliced through the air over him, missing him by inches. He was lying only a meter or so from the trees and their relative safety but eventually the hunter fellow would fall his own tree and be upon him. Rodney braced himself and sat up, then crawled as fast as the horrid pain would allow.

Finally out of sight he pushed his back up against a tree and just sat for a minute, sucking in great draughts of air and then blowing it from his lungs trying to quell the agony in his thigh. This pain had violently shoved aside the discomfort from his other injuries, making them seem laughable now. Broken and aching wrist, stinging feet...nothing compared to this physically shocking, thought-paralyzing intrusion.

Rodney looked around but could see no hunter. The fellow was as trapped on his side of the gorge as Rodney was on his own, the only difference being that the hunter's heath was intact and it wouldn't be long until he found his own way across, whether by log-bridge or something else. Who knew, Rodney thought, maybe the bastards had a secret way that was kept hidden from the "contestants".

Rodney opened his eyes and looked down at his leg. The arrow stuck out of his flesh by almost a foot. Its tip had gone deep and Rodney knew he would not be able to travel on the leg unless he removed the offending shaft and wrapped up his thigh somehow. He also knew it would be painful as hell to rip it out but he could see no other choice.

Rodney touched the tip of the arrow and tried to move it, just a tiny bit, and cried out. "Fuck!" It was a bad wound. Very, very bad. Rodney looked around in the brush near his right hand and found a short stick that had fallen from the canopy overhead. Putting it between his teeth to stifle his screams, he wiped slippery blood from his hands on his pants and then wrapped his good right hand around the shaft of the arrow, taking a couple of steadying breaths.

Biting down hard on the stick he pulled.

The shock of the pain bent him double but he did not let up on trying to yank the arrow out, his arms shaking with the effort. Once he could no longer stand the pain he let it go, spitting out the stick in his mouth along with a string of spit. The arrow had not budged.

The agony he was in now as opposed to a moment before was so bad that tears formed and silently fell, leaving tracks of salt-water down his dirt-smeared cheeks. Rodney didn't even care if it made him feel weak to cry a little. Even if he had never seen Sheppard cry or Ronan, or even Teyla for that matter, he would have forgiven any of them for it if they felt the pain he was now feeling and had given way to tears. It was simply impossible not to hold them back now. He didn't even feel sad anymore about dying, he just hurt everywhere and he was so horribly, horribly tired that staying where he was felt like the right thing to do now. Even though he had made it over that last hurdle and was free from the hunter for a few minutes more, he didn't care.

Then Sheppard's voice bit into him from another time. "Get your ass in gear McKay. This isn't just about you."

"Right...right, John, sorry...m'sorry..." Rodney whispered, not wanting to disappoint his friend and leader. Teyla and Ronan, they were still prisoners. They needed him. Rodney had no idea if he could help them even if he made it to the end, but he certainly could do nothing for them if he was dead.

With no small amount of agony Rodney bent his left leg double and un-wrapped the filthy strip of rag from his foot, leaving it lying in the dirt beside him for a moment. Then he once again shoved the stick between his teeth, wrapped his right fist around the shaft of the arrow and, screaming his pain into the stick between his lips, bent the arrow hard and fast until he heard it snap. Tossing the broken end away he wrapped the dirty rag around the wound and the protruding tip to stop the flow of blood as best he could. Then using the tree behind him, with enormous effort he pulled himself to his feet.

Taking a moment to let the sudden light-headedness pass, he eased the leg to the ground, seeing if it could take any of his weight and then, with a soft cry, raised it up again. Rodney felt despair creeping in like a black fog. How would he travel in this condition if he could not even bear the slightest weight on the leg? He needed a cane. Crutches would be even better but since there was no medical supply store nearby... Rodney began scouring the nearby brush for a likely stick, hoping one was within reach or at least within hopping distance.

XXX

When Weir had seen Rodney get hit by the hunters' arrow, she had feared the worst. "Oh god..." covering her face with steeple-ed hands, waiting for Rodney to move so she and Beckett would know he was still alive. Once Rodney did, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Becket had watched the entire scene unfold as well and was not so immediately relieved. "That is a bad wound, Elizabeth." Beckett informed her. "And the fact that he can't pull it out tells me it's lodged in the femur. It might have even gone through the bone which means the leg is broken."

Weir stared at the screen as they watched Rodney whack at the nearby bushes, looking for something. "What is he doing?"

"Looking for a cane I hope. " Becket answered. "But as long as that arrow is still in his leg, the wound will be unable to clot and he'll continue to bleed. Plus there's the risk of infection -"

"I know." Weir said sharply to shut him up, suddenly unable to stand hearing anymore dire news. She didn't have to hear it; she could see it as plain as day. "Please, Carson, I know." She tapped her ear bug. "John. Zelenka is almost ready."

"We're ready here, just give the word and dial the Gate."

"And John, Rodney made it across the gorge..."

"I knew he could do it."

"But it doesn't look like he's going to make it out of the trees, he's...badly wounded now."

A pause, then "What happened?"

"He's been shot twice by arrows. Becket tells me one is quite serious and Rodney can hardly walk so someone is going to have to go in and bring him out." She knew the Jumper would not have room enough to travel through the trees so that someone, whoever it turned out to be though Weir suspected John himself would go, would have to travel on foot.

Sheppard's words were strictly military but his tone was as sober as she had ever heard him. "Understood. Sheppard out."

In the Jumper Sheppard swivelled in his pilot's seat and tapped his ear-bug so the team in the second Jumper could hear him "Jumper teams - listen up. The second we are through that gate, Major Lorne'll be taking over piloting this Jumper while I handle the drone. Lieutenant Stackhouse, once you and Dalhousie are clear of the Gate immediately cloak the Jumper and blow that second orbital Gate to as many pieces as you can. Then get back to Atlantis through the ground Gate and do not, I repeat, do not wait for us. Is that understood?"

"Aye-aye sir."

Lorne looked worried. "Sir, we're not really going to hit them with drones..."

"No, we're going to hit the air over them with a drone. It'll be like a big flash-bang. A few on the ground might get scorched but it'll leave Teyla and Ronan mostly unharmed – I hope. Now we'll have only have a few minutes to finish this once we're through and those hybrids go down, so let our people and those prisoners out fast then set the charges for the ground Gate. If all goes well I'll be back at the Jumper within ten minutes with Rodney."

"You're going?" Lorne asked. "Sir, I'm faster over ground."

"True but it's my decision."

"Sir..."

"That is my decision, Major."

"Yes sir but what about the hybrids?" Lorne asked, itching to kick some hybrid ass. "Are we just going to let them go after what they've done to McKay and the others?"

From too much experience Sheppard knew when it was best to seek retribution, and when it was best to cut your losses and get the hell out of Dodge. "There's most likely a hybrid ship in orbit and we cannot risk a confrontation with only two Jumpers. The Daedulus is three days out and Colonel Caldwell is better equipped to deal with the bastards." Though Sheppard understood Lorne's anxiety to make Michael's freaks pay for fucking with one of their own. "Maybe next time, Major." Sheppard had no doubt there would be a next time. That's the trouble with the Pegasus galaxy; it never seemed to run out of enemies.

XXX

Ronan had to cover his ears when the horrid noise erupted from the Stargate and then only increased in volume. It was similar to what screeching nails across a surface would sound like if amplified a thousand times. Ronan watched as the hybrids covered their veined ears and began to shout to one another. Finally one of them approached the Gate and began to work the controls but was unable to stop the ear-splitting whine.

Ronan smiled a bit, and Teyla raised an eyebrow at him in question. He turned and shouted directly into her right ear. "Sheppard's on his way."

XXX

Weir asked Radek. "We only get once chance at this Radek, are you sure...?"

Zelenka jumped up from the where he'd been working beneath the controls and plopped down in the chair in front of the panel. "It's ready Doctor Weir. This should encourage them to repair the Gate to full working order so they can discover what's wrong. They have no choice you see - a diagnostic cannot be run on a Gate unless all the systems are fully operational."

Weir decided that it made sense and thanked ancient know-how. "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Zelenka is ready to implement our plan and dial the Gate."

"Acknowledged."

XXX

Ronan had not once let his eye stray from the guards that stood watch over their prison. One of them had a Wraith weapon, and Ronan did not like that guard very much. The din only increased and the guards staggered back as though the noise had physical weight and was pushing at them, making them move.

Ronan crawled over to the bars, his long knife ready to strike and slice through the hybrid's holster or even the hybrid's arm if necessary. Ronan didn't care which.

The hybrid working on the Gate finally finished his work of stopping the noise by setting in place the last crystal to its correct and full operation. Silence reigned once more and Ronan enjoyed seeing the hybrids let down their guard just seconds before the Gate sprang to life. The wormhole burst out in a two meter plume of energy and atomized the hybrid standing in the way before the creature had the chance to even look up. Ronan smiled at that.

In the next second Ronan and Teyla saw two Jumpers fly through the Gate and then cloak. Suspecting what Sheppard might have planned, Ronan warned Teyla "Cover your eyes."

Just she did so, a drone exploded in mid air, causing a flash so bright it would have blinded them instantly. Ronan then felt the shock-wave slam against the ground and the air around them, almost knocking him back on his ass. When he opened his eyes the clouds of dust and dirt obscured everything but he could hear the cries of the hybrids. In the next few seconds the dust settled enough that he could see them falling to the ground all around them like stones.

Ronan raised his knife and brought it down through the bars in one incredible precise motion, severing the downed hybrid's arm at the elbow joint and then scooping up the Wraith gun all in one clean strike. He turned to Teyla. "Ready?"

She nodded and Ronan aimed the weapon at the enclosure's lock, melting it off with a single hit. He took out another hybrid who had managed to stay on his feet through the explosion, mercilessly cutting him down with a sweep of his knife and then tossed that same knife to Teyla who then took out another dust coated hybrid much the same way. Leaving capable Teyla to kill any half conscious hybrids as necessary Ronan then proceeded to run as fast as his legs would carry him, his long limbs piston-ing hard, flying his body over the ground toward the tree-line, knowing Rodney was just over a kilometer from the fields surrounding them. He knew that would be where Sheppard would go once he saw that his plan had worked and the hybrids were down.

Just as Ronan suspected a whirl-wind of dust was stirred up near the trees. It had to be a landed Jumper, which was confirmed when Sheppard emerged from the aft door of the cloaked ship. "Ronan, good to see you're okay. Where's Teyla?"

"She's okay." And not one to waste time or use unnecessary extra words he added "I'm getting Rodney."

"I'm going; you help Lorne with the C4's." Sheppard said, turning away.

But Ronan grabbed his arm not caring that Sheppard's face darkened a bit in response. "I'm faster than you over ground and you know it and I can carry him back –you can't." When Sheppard hesitated, Ronan urged "Two minutes in and three out, maximum."

Sheppard knew it was the right decision even though he wished it could be him. He had sent his best people, including Rodney into this so-called mission and it should be him that gets them out, especially a team member that was injured. But Ronan was thinking straighter than he was. When it came to Rodney, he usually did. "Okay. Five minutes. We'll be here." Sheppard said then called over his shoulder into the Jumper. "Lorne, we've got four minutes to set those charges, let's go." And to Ronan "Bring him home."

XXX

Ronan counted the seconds until he knew he was in the general area where he had last seen Rodney on the hybrids screen. He stopped and crouched down, letting his long experience as a runner switch on in his mind like a light, letting it guide him through the brush and trees. Suddenly he saw them.

Rodney was in the foreground, pathetically hopping on his one good leg from thin tree to thin tree, using them as supports for his badly injured and still bleeding thigh. Ronan also saw some distance away the hunter, who had managed to forge his own bridge and catch up to Rodney with his bow and deadly arrows.

Ronan decided that the direct approach was best in this instance and stood up, straightening to his full six foot-two inches and stepping out onto the path in full view of both Rodney and the hunter. Rodney saw him, the relief on his face plain even from so far away. He then promptly collapsed to the ground, and was unmoving.

The hunter saw Ronan then, too, watching as the tall Satedan raised his right arm and aimed the weapon at the center of the other man's chest. The hunter stopped in his tracks and lowered the arrow he had been about to send fly into Rodney's back, knowing that a bow was no match for an energy weapon of any sort.

Ronan could see the indecision in the man's eyes but it only lasted a second before he turned and ran, Ronan sprinting after him, catching him in less than ten seconds and firing the Wraith weapon - set on stun – into the retreating man's back. It sent the hunter rolling into a boneless heap to the ground. Ronan walked up to him with his gun now set on kill, and stared calmly into the man's terrified eyes. "You hurt my friend." Ronan said simply.

The fellow - heavily muscled and young, as young as Lorne maybe - looked back at him defiantly, and then started making excuses. "It was him or me. I swear. They make us do this. They make us." He said.

Ronan wondered if he should let the guy go. Maybe the man was telling the truth. Maybe he had been made to hunt Rodney, hurt him, cut him, chasing him down relentlessly until he was bleeding out, dying or dead. But the young hunter had also taken unfair advantage and had known in advance that he would win. That was hardly a fair contest. Plus Ronan had seen the glee in the man's eyes as he had aimed his weapon at Rodney's back, the way his eyes had lit up as he was about to let his arrow fly and cut Rodney's spine in two. That had nothing to do with the game or winning or even the hybrids; that was just blood-lust. Ronan had seen it in the eyes of every Wraith that had ever hunted him. It was a look he had come to hate almost as much as the Wraith itself.

"No one can make you love killing." Ronan stated and fired.

"Come on, buddy" Ronan said to the now unconscious McKay, "let's get you home." He hoisted Rodney's weight onto his shoulders in what Sheppard called "fire-man-style" and ran back to the tree-line. Rodney did not wake up.

XXX

Sheppard piloted the Jumper back to the tree line in time to see Ronan emerge with Rodney draped over his wide shoulders. He set the Jumper down and Ronan piled in with his human cargo. "Let's go." The Satedan shouted and Sheppard didn't need to hear it twice, flying the Jumper to the Gate at a full clip and coming to a hover just before it. "Major Lorne, set the timer for five seconds."

Teyla gasped. "You are blowing up the Gate Colonel?" She asked, not believing her commander would strand innocents on a hostile world. "But there are dozens of other prisoners here. We cannot just leave them."

From experience Sheppard had also learned that no matter how hard you tried you can't save everyone. Do what you can and let God sort out the rest. "If we land, this Jumper will be overwhelmed with them and none of us will ever get out of here. We don't have a choice Teyla."

"But Colonel..."

"I said we don't have a choice. The Daedulus is on its way. Help is coming." He knew that Caldwell's ship would be too late to help most of the prisoners though. Michael's hybrids were not likely to leave behind any witnesses to their little game of kill or be killed.

Suddenly Lorne said "Colonel – look."

Not more than two hundred meters from where they hovered, a small ship appeared, uncloaking before their eyes. Lorne got out the Jumper's scanning device and punched a few buttons. "Its power signature is off the scale."

"Weapons?" Sheppard asked.

"No sir, something else...the readings..." He looked up. "The readings indicate ZPM's on Low-Steady."

Low-Steady meaning active ZPM's but on stand-by. Sheppard had heard Rodney use similar phraseology. "ZPM's?" Plural.

"Yes sir."

"That's what the hybrids were doing all of this for - ZPM's or at least ZPM parts." Sheppard knew they would not likely be able to grapple away any for themselves. The hybrids were beginning to wake up, some were already staggering around. And Rodney was badly injured. They had no choice but to go right now.

"Major Lorne. Start the timer." The Jumper went home.

Then in a blast just strong enough to do the job but not one that would cause much collateral damage, the Gate that had been feeding unsuspecting innocents into the hybrid's deadly gaming arena blew itself to pieces.

XXX

In the infirmary, with a pair of pliers in his gloved hands Becket took hold of the arrow still imbedded in Rodney's thigh and pulled with all his might, finally the thing popped from its solid hold on Rodney's split femur. Becket carefully drew it out as straight as possible, trying to avoid any further damage to the surrounding flesh. He worked for another hour on Rodney's injuries, x-raying and then setting his broken wrist and thigh bones, bandaging the wounds, inserting IV solutions and antibiotic feeds, and then had the nurses wash him and dress him in a gown, himself finally placing the oxygen feed in Rodney's nose by way of a pronged nasal cannula. He patted the sedated Rodney's still arm. "Sleep well my friend."

He removed his paper cap and gloves and left the surgery to speak to those he knew waited outside. At their anxious faces he said "Well, he'll be fine but we've got to watch that leg. He lost a lot of blood and I've got him on antibiotics to combat any infection that might have set in. He's okay but he's weak, so you can't disturb him for a while. Another day without treatment and he might have lost that leg."

Sheppard bit his lip. Chalk up one more survival-by-a-hair for Rodney McKay.

Teyla asked "When can we see him, doctor? We promise not to wake him."

Beckett knew it was pointless to give them an emphatic no since someone always later slipped in right under his nose. "All right, fine, but only one of you and don't wake him up, or I'll have the kitchen staff slip laxatives into all your field rations. If you need me I'll be getting some coffee. Anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

Everyone declined and thanked Beckett for once again saving their friend's life.

Beckett looked back at them. "I'd be lying if I said it was all my doing." At Sheppard's drawn face Beckett patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry Colonel, he'll be all right."

Sheppard looked over Ronan and Ronan understood, answering for Teyla as well. "Go ahead, Sheppard, we'll see him tomorrow." Teyla nodded and left with Ronan.

"Thanks." Sheppard entered Beckett's Post-operative Recovery area, passing through the part in the double set of white curtains.

Rodney looked...better than on the Jumper where his face had appeared almost bloodless. Now it was still pale but not lifeless. No, not at all lifeless now. Some colour, a shade just above greyish-pink, had returned to his thinner cheeks. His friend breathed easily and looked peaceful despite the plaster encased right thigh –where Becket had left off the weight of any sheets to reduce his patient's discomfort - the left wrist encased in plaster of Paris as well, the left upper arm wrapped in gauze, as well as his bandaged feet. The scientist looked more mummy than man.

Sheppard collapsed into the hard plastic chair, making himself as comfortable as possible for the vigil he planned to keep for most of this first night.

XXX

Two days later Caldwell sent a message to Atlantis and Weir delivered it herself to the infirmary where Rodney was now awake and sitting up. When she entered Rodney was playing cards with Sheppard. To her it looked like Twenty-One, an oldie but still a goodie.

"Rodney, you're looking much better." She said, trying to speak of something positive before delivering the negative. "And Colonel Sheppard - sorry to interrupt your game but I have a message from Colonel Caldwell."

Sheppard left the game and Rodney's side for a moment to hear whatever Weir had to say away from Rodney's curious ears. Weir understood. Sheppard wanted his team mate to rest, not to worry about things over which he had no control. "Unfortunately the Daedulus reports that when they arrived at the Gaming planet no ship was detected in orbit and no people, either hybrid or human, were found on the surface.

"The planet was culled by the Wraith thousands of years ago according to information Zelenka this morning just located in the ancient data base, that's probably why the hybrids' chose it." Weir knew Sheppard had held onto hope that the Daedulus would arrive in time to rescue at least some of the innocents on the planet that he and his teams had been forced to leave behind. "I'm sorry, John, but I hope you'll remember that there was nothing you could have done differently. Rodney's alive because of you."

It also meant the hybrids had got away and were free to set up their game of run-and-hide-and-die somewhere else, Sheppard thought. "Wish we could have got our hands on one of those ZPM's at least." He said wistfully. It might have made all this agony worth-while...maybe. But he would rather have Rodney back safe and sound than ten ZPM's, no question. Because the alternative didn't even compute.

Weir nodded, silently agreeing with him. A second ZPM would have been a nice reward for their trouble. However Rodney was back and would heal, at least physically. Their new resident psychologist – what was his name – MacEwan? – would be brought up to speed rather quickly on Rodney's past and present personal history of his mission-related Atlantis turmoil. No doubt the head-shrinker would have some well though-out questions prepared for the scientist's up-coming mandatory sessions, about which Rodney would complain loud and long. Weir felt quite content with the thought of it. It was good to have him home.

XXX

"Come on, Rodney, once more up and down the hall."

"I'm tired." Rodney snapped. "And Becket is a cruel man for assigning you as my physical therapist. He's evil, pure and simple."

"No, he's just concerned your hostile nature will tear a new ass-hole in Atlantis's one qualified physical therapist who we can't afford to lose to a McKay-induced suicide - plus he knows I've been through this myself. So once more up and down the hall."

"When in the hell did you ever go through this?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes "Not this as in being hunted in some twisted game but this - having a broken leg and other injuries, okay? So once more, come on, move your ass McKay."

"Oh that's some nice encouragement."

"Stop complaining." Sheppard said though secretly he hoped Rodney never would. Rodney and griping: it was one of the ways he had come to recognise everything in his world being as it should be.

Sheppard had Rodney's right arm slung over his shoulder and was helping him hobble along by walking with him and bearing some of his weight. Due to the wrist injury crutches were for now useless in his Beckett-ordered exercising of his bad leg as Rodney could not grip the crutches' handles. However a cane had proved to be inadequate in easing the pain in his feet or thigh, so it was this or nothing.

"Evil doctors..." Rodney said again just in case Sheppard hadn't heard him the first time, "and evil colonels, you're all just evil, evil, evil!"

"Yeah, yeah, come on, buddy," Sheppard encouraged gently, "I know it hurts but Sheppard's got ya', all right? I got ya'...and I promise I won't let go..."

END


End file.
